Miss Malfoy
by AuraRaine
Summary: Lucia Malfoy is a Gryffindor unlike her family. They were all Slytherin. The Triwizard Tournament is coming up soon, Lucia Malfoy (Draco's twin sister) is nervous for Harry Potter, who her family frown upon. As she carries on her years through Hogwarts, she'll have to make a decision which would affect her whole future. The question is; Dark or Light, Lucia Malfoy?


Father was still angry I was placed into Gryffindor, three years ago. The backs of my ankles still were hurting when I walked anywhere. Draco was as nasty as ever, as well as my Mother. When Father left though, Draco would help me trying to stop the pain, he and Mother would brew potions without Father knowing so my wounds would heal quicker but the quicker they healed the quicker my Father would beat me again. My summer had been hell. The beatings were worse than ever this summer.

*FLASHBACK*

"Miss Malfoy, Mr Malfoy would like to see you." Our house elf told me.  
I smiled down at her "Which one? My Father or my brother?"  
"Master Malfoy." She replied. She always referred to people as 'Master, Miss, Sir, Missus or Mister.'  
"Thank-you." I said, my smile fading, the beatings were going to begin this early in the holiday?  
Draco was downstairs, in the same room as Father. Father smiled but it was not a real smile it was more gritting his teeth.  
He said "Well, Lucia. You are attending your fourth year along with Draco at Hogwarts, if I am not mistaken?"  
I nodded "That is right Father, fourth year."  
He carried on "Well, then. As you are quite a beautiful young lady, just as your mother was at your age, there must be quite a few boys, I am correct am I not?"  
Harry. When we were in first year when I looked into the mirror of erised, I had seen myself in Slytherin robes but my hands intertwined with Harry's. My Mother, Father and brother all were happy for us smiling.  
I answered "Well there is one."  
"What is he like then?" He questioned.  
"Well, he is not very tall. He has black messy hair and emerald eyes." I replied. I saw Draco turn to face me knowing who he is.  
My Father pulled out his wand and hit me with cruciatus curse. I screamed in pain, I could not cry, I made that mistake when I was placed into Gryffindor and he was angry then.  
When Father finally let go of the curse, everywhere hurt. Draco was staring, shell-shocked.  
My Father said "See you did not see that coming? Love is a distraction, do not forget that Lucia Malfoy."  
I grabbed my own wand and yelled "Expelliarmus!" His wand flew from his hand and hit a cabinet behind him which smashed. I had winced at the sound.  
He stared at me for a moment, before he had time to move I yelled "Flipendo." He flew backwards in the same direction his wand hand flew. Draco stared at me and then looked at our Father. He was shocked by what he had seen. The same as I was. Before he had said anything I had ran back to my room in our Manor. I dreaded the punishment that was coming when Father came back round. I sat nervously on my bed. I reached for some scissors and started cutting the ends of my hair. Before I knew what was happening the ends of my hair were all different lengths. I decided to cut my hair really short. It was not perfect but it was different. I shrugged my shoulders and turned my hair a bright purple with a wave of my wand. My Mother walked in and gasped. I turned on my seat and said "Sorry."  
She answered "Your Father is going to go ballistic when he sees this!"  
I explained "Well, I am already on his hit list, what difference will this make?"  
My Mother walked over and started restyling my hair to the proper lengths each side. My hair which used to come halfway down my back and was almost white was now straight, came just below my jaw and was bright purple. Mother smiled "Beautiful. If your Father asks, I did not help you because the punishment could be worse. I love you sweetie."  
She kissed the top off my head and walked out. I waved my wand and cleared up the hair on the floor. Draco walked in and stuttered "W-what h-h-have you done?"  
I laughed "So you do not like it then?"  
His expression did not change "Father will kill you."  
"Oh, I know, you saw what happened. I am already on his hit list either way, so what difference does it make?"  
Draco left my room and moments later my Father had came in, his long hair flying behind him as he was walking with such speed. He used "Imperio." He pushed me against the wall then dropped me to the floor. Two out of the three unforgivable curses, I prayed the third would not be used. He started whipping the backs of my ankles when I tried to get up, he then started on my back. I hissed in pain. He carried on until he thought I was punished enough. I heard Draco drop something then it smashed and my Father yell "You stupid boy!"  
I heard a slap and then Draco's screams of pain. My punishments carried on everyday. Father did go out everyday so Draco and I would help each other. I was grateful to have a brother like Draco even though he hated me inside of school.

*END OF FLASHBACK*

Hermione, Harry, Ron and I were on our way to Hogwarts. We were in our compartment.  
When Ron had first saw me he had exclaimed "Bloody hell! Lucia, what happened to your hair?" I had laughed and shrugged the comment off but everyone had seemed to like my hair saying that I had looked more grown up with my hair this length.  
Ron was talking loudly when Hermione hissed "Sush!"  
"...Father actually considered sending me to Durmstrang rather than Hogwarts, you know. He knows the headmaster, you see. Well, you know his opinion of Dumbledore. The man's such a Mudblood-lover and Durmstrang doesn't admit that sort of riffraff. But Mother didn't like the idea of me going to school so far away. Father says Durmstrang takes a far more sensible line than Hogwarts about the Dark Arts. Durmstrang students actually learn them, not just the defense rubbish we do." I recognised my brother's voice, he was gloating as usual.  
I had bitten my lip to stop myself laughing. It was true Father had wanted to send Draco and I to Durmstrang but it was more the fact Father was worried we would not go home if we did go there, who else would he have to yell at?  
Hermione got up, tiptoed to the compartment door, and slid it shut, blocking out Draco's voice.  
"So he thinks Durmstrang would have suited him, does he?" she said angrily. "I wish he had gone, then we wouldn't have to put up with him." Then she realised who I was and quickly said "Oh no, I mean that-"  
I cut her off "Oh, not to worry, I know my brother is an idiot."  
"Durmstrang's another wizarding school?" asked Harry.  
"Yes," I explained. "and it's got a horrible reputation. According to An Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe, it puts a lot of emphasis on the Dark Arts."  
"I think I've heard of it," asked Ron "Where is it? What country?"  
"Well, nobody knows, do they?" said Hermione.  
"Er, why not?" questioned Harry confused..  
"There's traditionally been a lot of rivalry between all the magic schools. Durmstrang and Beauxbatons like to conceal their whereabouts so nobody can steal their secrets." replied Hermione in a matter-of-factly tone..  
"Come off it," said Ron, starting to laugh. "Durmstrang's got to be about the same size as Hogwarts! How are you going to hide a great big castle?"  
"But Hogwarts is hidden," I said.  
Hermione explained. "Everyone knows that! Well, everyone who's read Hogwarts, A History, anyway."  
"Just you and Lucia, then," said Ron. "So go on - how d'you hide a place like Hogwarts?"  
"It's bewitched" I explained. "If a Muggle looks at it, all they see is a moldering old ruin with a sign over the entrance saying DANGER, DO NOT ENTER, UNSAFE."  
"So Durmstrang'll just look like a ruin to an outsider too?" Ron asked.  
"Maybe," I replied shrugging, "or it might have Muggle-repelling charms on it, like the World Cup stadium. And to keep foreign wizards from finding it, they'll have made it Unplottable -"  
"Come again?"  
"Well, you can enchant a building so it's impossible to plot on a map, can't you?"  
"Er. . . if you say so," said Harry.  
"But I think Durmstrang must be somewhere in the far north," said Hermione thoughtfully.  
"Somewhere very cold, because they've got fur capes as part of their uniforms." I added on.  
"Ah, think of the possibilities," said Ron dreamily. "It would've been so easy to push Malfoy off a glacier and make it look like an accident. Shame his mother likes him."  
I slapped Ron hard on the arm. "I know you do not like my brother but there is no need to kill him yourself. I can always do that when he gets on my nerves."  
This caused Ron to laugh and make Harry and Hermione laugh.

The rain was starting to become extremely heavy as the train was heading North. It was so dark the lanterns were already lit at midday. The lunch trolley had rattled down the train and Harry had bought Cauldron Cakes for us to share. Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom had came in to see us, they were all stunned about my hair but agreed it looked nice. The boys had began talking about Quidditch, I liked and was good at Quidditch. Harry told me to try out for the team this year but I was not too sure. Hermione was bored of it and began reading. We were talking about the Cup match and Neville had a jealous look on his face.  
Ron said to Neville "We were in the top box-"  
"For the first and last time in your life, Weasley."  
My brother never missed an opportunity to depict an argument. He had Crabbe and Goyle, they were both tall and thug looking.  
"Don't remember asking you to join us, Malfoy." Harry said coolly.  
"Weasley, what is that?" My brother asked, pointing at Ron's owl's cage. Draco pulled it as Ron tried to hide it.  
"Look at this!" said Draco in pure ecstasy, holding up Ron's robes and showing Crabbe and Goyle, "Weasley, you weren't thinking of wearing these, were you? I mean they were very fashionable in about eighteen ninety!"  
"Shut up Draco! Leave my friends alone." I spat.  
"Do not even call me Draco. You ruined our family's name, you are no sister of mine!" He replied venom dripping from each word.  
I stood up and pushed him out the way and screamed "I hate you, Draco Malfoy." Tears ran down my face. I found an empty compartment, I sat down pulled my knees to my face and started crying. I charmed it so no-one could hear me on the outside.

Meanwhile, the argument between my brother and Ron had carried on:

"Eat dung, Malfoy!" said Ron, the same color as the dress robes as he snatched them back out of Draco's grip. Draco howled with derisive laughter; Crabbe and Goyle guffawed stupidly.  
"So, are you going to enter, Weasley? Going to try and bring a bit of glory to the family name? There's money involved as well, you know. You would be able to afford some decent robes if you won."  
"What are you talking about?" snapped Ron.  
"Are you going to enter?" Draco repeated. "I suppose you will, Potter? You never miss a chance to show off, do you?"  
"Either explain what you're on about or go away, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, over the top of The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 4.  
A gleeful smile started spread across Draco's pale face "Don't tell me you don't know?" he said delightedly. "You have got a father and brother at the Ministry and you don't even know? My God, my father told me about it ages ago! He had heard it from Cornelius Fudge. But then, Father's always associated with the top people at the Ministry. Maybe your Father's too junior to know about it, Weasley. Yes, they probably don't talk about important stuff in front of him."  
Laughing once more, Draco beckoned to Crabbe and Goyle, and the three of them disappeared.  
Ron had got to his feet and slammed the sliding compartment door so hard behind them that the glass shattered.  
"Ron!" Hermione yelled, and she pulled out her wand, muttered "Reparo!" and the glass shards flew back into a single pane and back into the door.  
"Well! Making it look like he knows everything and we don't." Ron snarled.  
"Of course he does," said Hermione quietly. "Don't let Malfoy get to you, Ron. I am going to try and find Lucia."

Hermione had found me and asked "Lucia, are you alright?"  
"Just peachy." I replied sarcastically.  
"Don't worry about him. He'll get over himself. He's family after all." Hermione hugged me and the Seamus walked in. "What's wrong, Lucia?" He asked.  
"My brother." I replied.  
He simply nodded and joined in the hug with Hermione and I.

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry yelled, seeing a gigantic silhouette at the far end of the platform.  
"All righ', Harry?" Hagrid bellowed back, waving. "See yeh at the feast if we don' drown!"  
First years traditionally reached Hogwarts Castle by sailing across the lake with Hagrid.  
"Oooh, I wouldn't fancy crossing the lake in this weather," said Hermione fervently, shivering as we inched slowly along the dark platform with the rest of the crowd. A hundred horseless carriages stood waiting for all the students outside the station. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and Myself climbed gratefully into one of them, the door shut with a snap, and a few moments later, with a great lurch, the long procession of carriages was rumbling and splashing its way up the track toward Hogwarts Castle.

Through the gates, flanked with statues of winged boars, and up the sweeping drive the carriages trundled, swaying dangerously in what was fast becoming a gale. Leaning against the window, I could see Hogwarts coming nearer, its many lighted windows blurred and shimmering behind the thick curtain of rain. Lightning flashed across the sky as the carriage came to a halt before the great oak front doors, which stood at the top of a flight of stone steps. People who had occupied the carriages in front were already hurrying up the stone steps into the castle. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Neville and I jumped down from our carriage and dashed up the steps too, looking up only when we were safely inside the cavernous, torch-lit entrance hall, with its magnificent marble staircase.

"Bloody Hell!" said Ron, shaking his head like a dog which sent water everywhere, "if that keeps up the lake's going to overflow. I'm soak - ARRGH!"  
A large, red, water-filled balloon had dropped from out of the ceiling onto Ron's head and exploded. Drenched and sputtering, Ron staggered sideways into Harry, just as a second water bomb dropped narrowly missing Hermione and I it burst at Harry's feet, sending a wave of cold water over his sneakers into his socks. People all around them shrieked and started pushing one another in their efforts to get out of the line of fire. We looked up and saw, floating twenty feet above them, Peeves the Poltergeist, a little man in a bell-covered hat and orange bow tie, his wide, malicious face contorted with concentration as he took aim again. Peeves was always annoying, he always attacked me in my first year. He helped me get more lost than I already was on the first week and threw empty rubbish bins at me.  
"PEEVES!" yelled an angry voice. "Peeves, come down here at ONCE!"  
Professor McGonagall had come dashing out of the Great Hall; she skidded on the wet floor and grabbed Hermione around the neck to stop herself from falling.  
"Ouch! Sorry, Miss Granger"  
"That's all right, Professor!" Hermione gasped, massaging her throat.  
"Peeves, get down here NOW!" barked Professor McGonagall, straightening her pointed hat.  
"Not doing nothing!" cackled Peeves, lobbing a water bomb at several fifth-year girls, who screamed and dived into the Great Hall. "Already wet, aren't they? Little squirts! Wheeeeeeeeee!" And he aimed another bomb at a group of second years who had just arrived.  
"I shall call the headmaster!" shouted Professor McGonagall. "I'm warning you, Peeves -"  
Peeves stuck out his tongue, threw the last of his water bombs into the air, and zoomed off up the marble staircase, cackling insanely.  
"Well, move along, then!" said Professor McGonagall sharply. "Into the Great Hall, come on!"  
Harry, Ron, Hermione and I slipped and slid across the entrance hall and through the double doors on the right, Ron muttering furiously under his breath as he pushed his sopping hair off his face.  
The Great Hall looked its usual splendid self, decorated for the start-of-term feast. Golden plates and goblets gleamed by the light of hundreds and hundreds of candles, floating over the tables in midair. The four long House tables were packed with chattering students; at the top of the Hall, the staff sat along one side of a fifth table, facing their pupils. It was much warmer in here. Harry, Ron, Hermione and I walked past the Slytherins, the Ravenclaws, and the Hufflepuffs, and sat down with the rest of the Gryffindors at the far side of the Hall, next to Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost.  
"Good evening," he said, beaming at them.  
"Says who?" said Harry, taking off his sneakers and emptying them of water. "Hope they hurry up with the Sorting. I'm starving."  
The Sorting of the new students into Houses took place at the start of every school year, but by an unlucky combination of circumstances, Harry hadn't been present at one since his own. He was quite looking forward to it. Just then, a highly excited, breathless voice called down the table.  
"Hiya, Harry!" It was Colin Creevey, a third year. Harry was something of a hero to Colin.  
"Hi, Colin," said Harry.  
"Harry, guess what? Guess what, Harry? My brother's starting! My brother Dennis!"  
"Er, great." said Harry.  
"He's really excited!" said Colin, practically bouncing up and down in his seat. "I just hope he's in Gryffindor! Keep your fingers crossed, eh, Harry?"  
"Er yeah, all right," said Harry. He turned back to myself, Hermione, Ron, and Nearly Headless Nick. "Brothers and sisters usually go in the same Houses, don't they?" he said. He was obviously judging by the Weasleys, all seven of who had been put into Gryffindor.  
I raised my eyebrows at Harry and said sarcastically "Oh really? The same Houses you think?"  
Harry rolled his eyes but with a grin on his face.

"Where's the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Hermione, who was looking up at the teachers.  
We had never yet had a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had lasted more than three terms. Harry's favorite by far had been Professor Lupin, who had resigned last year. He looked up and down the staff table. There was definitely no new face there.  
"Maybe they couldn't get anyone!" said Hermione, looking anxious.  
I scanned the table carefully. Tiny little Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was sitting on a large pile of cushions beside Professor Sprout, the Herbology teacher, whose hat was askew over her flyaway gray hair. She was talking to Professor Sinistra of the Astronomy department. On Professor Sinistra's other side was the sallow-faced, hook-nosed, greasy-haired Potions master, Snape. My least favorite person at Hogwarts.  
On Snape's other side was an empty seat, which I guessed was Professor McGonagall's.  
Next to it, and in the very center of the table, sat Professor Dumbledore, the headmaster, his sweeping silver hair and beard shining in the candlelight, his magnificent deep green robes embroidered with many stars and moons.

"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, beside Harry, "I could eat a hippogriff."  
The words were no sooner out of his mouth than the doors of the Great Hall opened and silence fell. Professor McGonagall was leading a long line of first years up to the top of the Hall. They first years appeared to have swum across the lake rather than sailed. All of them were shivering with a combination of cold and nerves as they filed along the staff table and came to a halt in a line facing the rest of the school all of them except the smallest of the lot, a boy with mousy hair, who was wrapped in what I recognized as Hagrid's moleskin overcoat. The coat was so big for him that it hooked as though he were draped in a furry black circus tent. His small face protruded from over the collar, looking almost painfully excited. When he had lined up with his terrified-looking peers, he caught Colin Creevey's eye, gave a double thumbs-up, and mouthed, I fell in the lake! He looked positively delighted about it.  
Professor McGonagall now placed a three-legged stool on the ground before the first years and, on top of it, an extremely old, dirty patched wizard's hat. The first years stared at it. So did everyone else. For a moment, there was silence. Then a long tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the hat broke into song:

"A thousand years or more ago, When I was newly sewn, There lived four wizards of renown, Whose names are still well known:  
Bold Gryffindor, from wild moor, Fair Ravenclaw, from glen, Sweet Hufflepuff, from valley broad, Shrewd Slytherin, from fin. They shared a wish, a hope, a dream, They hatched a daring plan To educate young sorcerers Thus Hogwarts School began. Now each of these four founders Formed their own house, for each Did value different virtues In the ones they had to teach. By Gryffindor, the bravest were Prized far beyond the rest; For Ravenclaw, the cleverest Would always be the best; For Hufflepuff, hard workers were Most worthy of admission; And power-hungry Slytherin Loved those of great ambition. While still alive they did divide Their favorites from the throng, Yet how to pick the worthy ones When they were dead and gone.'Twas Gryffindor who found the way, He whipped me off his head The founders put some brains in me So I could choose instead! Now slip me snug about your ears, I've never yet been wrong, I'll have a look inside your mind And tell where you belong!"  
The Great Hall rang with applause as the Sorting Hat finished.  
"That's not the song it sang when it Sorted us," said Harry, clapping along with everyone else.  
"Sings a different one every year," said Ron. "It's got to be a pretty boring life, hasn't it, being a hat? I suppose it spends all year making up the next one."  
I could not help but laugh at Ron's comment, it was probably true.

Professor McGonagall was now unrolling a large scroll of parchment.  
"When I call out your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool," she told the first years. "When the hat announces your House, you will go and sit at the appropriate table.  
"Ackerley, Stewart!"  
A boy walked forward, visibly trembling from head to foot, picked up the Sorting Hat, put it on, and sat down on the stool.  
"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.  
"Baddock, Malcolm!"  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
"Branstone, Eleanor!"  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
"Cauldwell, Owen!"  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
"Creevey, Dennis!"  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
Hagrid clapped along with the Gryffindors as Dennis Creevey, beaming widely, took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and hurried over to join his brother.  
"Colin, I fell in!" he said shrilly, throwing himself into an empty seat. "It was brilliant! And something in the water grabbed me and pushed me back in the boat!"  
"Cool!" said Colin, just as excitedly. "It was probably the giant squid, Dennis!"  
"Wow!" said Dennis, as though nobody in their wildest dreams could hope for more than being thrown into a storm-tossed, fathoms-deep lake, and pushed out of it again by a giant sea monster.  
"Dennis! Dennis! See that boy down there? The one with the black hair and glasses? See him? Know who he is, Dennis?"

Harry had not wanted the attention so he turned away, his emerald eyes were sparkling, they were beautiful.  
"Oh hurry up," Ron moaned, massaging his stomach.  
"Now, Ron, the Sorting's much more important than food," said Nearly Headless Nick as "Madley, Laura!" became a Hufflepuff.  
"Course it is, if you're dead," snapped Ron.  
"I do hope this year's batch of Gryffindors are up to scratch," said Nearly Headless Nick, applauding as "McDonald, Natalie!" joined the Gryffindor table. "We don't want to break our winning streak, do we?"  
Gryffindor had won the Inter-House Championship for the last three years in a row.  
"Pritchard, Graham!"  
"SLYTHERIN!"  
"Quirke, Orla!"  
"RAVENCLAW!"  
And finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ended.

Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and the stool and carried them away.  
"About time," said Ron, seizing his knife and fork and looking expectantly at his golden plate.  
Professor Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was smiling around at the students, his arms opened wide in welcome.  
"I have only two words to say to you," he told them, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."  
"Hear, hear!" said Harry and Ron loudly as the empty dishes filled magically before their eyes.  
Nearly Headless Nick watched mournfully as we loaded own plates.  
"Aaah, 'at's be'er," said Ron, with his mouth full of mashed potato.  
"You're lucky there's a feast at all tonight, you know," said Nearly Headless Nick.  
"There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."  
"Why? Wha' 'appened?" said Harry, through a sizable chunk of steak.  
"Peeves, of course," said Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, which wobbled dangerously. He pulled his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast - well, it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council - the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance - but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."  
The Bloody Baron was the Slytherin ghost, a gaunt and silent specter covered in silver bloodstains. He was the only person at Hogwarts who could really control Peeves.  
"Yeah, we thought Peeves seemed hacked off about something," said Ron darkly. "So what did he do in the kitchens?"  
"Oh the usual," said Nearly Headless Nick, shrugging. "Wreaked havoc and mayhem. Pots and pans everywhere. Place swimming in soup. Terrified the house-elves out of their wits-"  
Hermione had knocked over her golden goblet. Pumpkin juice spread steadily over the tablecloth, staining several feet of white linen orange, but Hermione paid no attention.  
"There are house-elves here?" she said, staring, horror-struck, at Nearly Headless Nick. "Here at Hogwarts?"  
"Certainly," said Nearly Headless Nick, looking surprised at her reaction. "The largest number in any dwelling in Britain, I believe. Over a hundred."  
"I've never seen one!" said Hermione.  
"Well, they hardly ever leave the kitchen by day, do they?" said Nearly Headless Nick.  
"They come out at night to do a bit of cleaning.. . see to the fires and so on.. . . I mean, you're not supposed to see them, are you? That's the mark of a good house-elf, isn't it, that you don't know it's there?"  
Hermione stared at him.  
"But they get paid?" she said. "They get holidays, don't they? And - and sick leave, and pensions, and everything?"  
Nearly Headless Nick chortled so much that his ruff slipped and his head flopped off, dangling on the inch or so of ghostly skin and muscle that still attached it to his neck. I could not help but chuckle myself. I supported House-elf rights but his reaction was priceless. My chuckle earned me a glare from Hermione which caused me to laugh harder.  
"Sick leave and pensions?" he said, pushing his head back onto his shoulders and securing it once more with his ruff. "House-elves don't want sick leave and pensions!"  
Hermione looked down at her hardly touched plate of food, then put her knife and fork down upon it and pushed it away from her.  
"Oh c'mon, 'Er-my-knee," said Ron, accidentally spraying Harry with bits of Yorkshire pudding. "Oops - sorry, 'Arry -" He swallowed. "You won't get them sick leave by starving yourself!"  
"Slave labor," said Hermione, breathing hard through her nose. "That's what made this dinner. Slave labor." And she refused to eat another bite. I simply rolled my eyes, she was being very silly. It is not like the elves were being beaten, sure they deserved pay but they always refused to be paid.

The rain was still drumming heavily against the high, dark glass. Another clap of thunder shook the windows, and the stormy ceiling flashed, illuminating the golden plates as the remains of the first course vanished and were replaced, instantly, with puddings.  
"Treacle tart, Hermione!" said Ron, deliberately wafting its smell toward her. "Spotted dick, look! Chocolate gateau!"  
When the puddings too had been eaten, and the last crumbs had faded off the plates, leaving them sparkling clean, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet again. The buzz of chatter filling the Hall ceased almost at once, so that only the howling wind and pounding rain could be heard.  
"So!" said Dumbledore, smiling around at us all. "Now that we are all fed and watered. I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anybody would like to check it."  
The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitched. He continued, "As ever, I would like to remind you all that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.  
"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."  
"What?" Harry gasped. He looked around at Fred and George, his fellow members of the Quidditch team. They were mouthing soundlessly at Dumbledore, apparently too appalled to speak. Dumbledore went on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy - but I am sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts -"  
But at that moment, there was a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall banged open.  
A man stood in the doorway, leaning upon a long staff, shrouded in a black traveling cloak. Every head in the Great Hall swiveled toward the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashed across the ceiling. He lowered his hood, shook out a long mane of grizzled, dark gray hair, then began to walk up toward the teachers' table.  
A dull clunk echoed through the Hall on his every other step. He reached the end of the top table, turned right, and limped heavily toward Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crossed the ceiling. Hermione gasped.  
The lightning had thrown the man's face into sharp relief, and it was a face unlike any I had ever seen. It looked as though it had been carved out of weathered wood by someone who had only the vaguest idea of what human faces are supposed to look like, and was none too skilled with a chisel. Every inch of skin seemed to be scarred. The mouth looked like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of the nose was missing. But it was the man's eyes that made him frightening.  
One of them was small, dark, and beady. The other was large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue. The blue eye was moving ceaselessly, without blinking, and was rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye - and then it rolled right over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all they could see was whiteness.

The stranger reached Dumbledore. He stretched out a hand that was as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shook it, muttering words that I couldn't hear. He seemed to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shook his head unsmiling and replied in an undertone. Dumbledore nodded and gestured the man to the empty seat on his right-hand side.  
The stranger sat down, shook his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulled a plate of sausages toward him, raised it to what was left of his nose, and sniffed it. He then took a small knife out of his pocket, speared a sausage on the end of it, and began to eat. His normal eye was fixed upon the sausages, but the blue eye was still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.  
"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher?" said Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."  
It was usual for new staff members to be greeted with applause, but none of the staff or students chapped except Dumbledore and Hagrid, who both put their hands together and applauded, but the sound echoed dismally into the silence, and they stopped fairly quickly. Everyone else seemed too transfixed by Moody's bizarre appearance to do more than stare at him.  
"Moody?" Harry muttered to Ron. "Mad-Eye Moody? The one your dad went to help this morning?"  
"Must be," said Ron in a low, awed voice.  
"What happened to him?" Hermione whispered. "What happened to his face?"  
"Dunno," Ron whispered back, watching Moody with fascination.  
Moody seemed totally indifferent to his less-than-warm welcome. Ignoring the jug of pumpkin juice in front of him, he reached again into his travelling cloak, pulled out a hip flask, and took a long draught from it. As he lifted his arm to drink, his cloak was pulled a few inches from the ground, and I saw, below the table, several inches of carved wooden leg, ending in a clawed foot.

Dumbledore cleared his throat.  
"As I was saying," he said, smiling at the sea of students before him, all of whom were still gazing transfixed at Mad-Eye Moody, "we are to have the honour of hosting a very exciting event over the coming months, an event that has not been held for over a century. It is my very great pleasure to inform you that the Triwizard Tournament will be taking place at Hogwarts this year."  
"You're JOKING!" said Fred Weasley loudly.  
The tension that had filled the Hall ever since Moody's arrival suddenly broke. Nearly everyone laughed, and Dumbledore chuckled appreciatively.  
"I am not joking, Mr. Weasley," he said, "though now that you mention it, I did hear an excellent one over the summer about a troll, a hag, and a leprechaun who all go into a bar."  
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly.  
"Er but maybe this is not the time, no?" said Dumbledore, "Where was I? Ah yes, the Triwizard Tournament. . . well, some of you will not know what this tournament involves, so I hope those who do know will forgive me for giving a short explanation, and allow their attention to wander freely. The Triwizard Tournament was first established some seven hundred years ago as a friendly competition between the three largest European schools of wizardry: Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang. A champion was selected to represent each school, and the three champions competed in three magical tasks. The schools took it in turns to host the tournament once every five years, and it was generally agreed to be a most excellent way of establishing ties between young witches and wizards of different nationalities -until, that is, the death toll mounted so high that the tournament was discontinued."  
"Death toll?" Hermione whispered, looking alarmed. But her anxiety did not seem to be shared by the majority of students in the Hall; many of them were whispering excitedly to one another, and Harry I could tell was far more interested in hearing about the tournament than in worrying about deaths that had happened hundreds of years ago.  
"There have been several attempts over the centuries to reinstate the tournament,"  
Dumbledore continued, "None of which has been very successful. However, our own departments of International Magical Cooperation and Magical Games and Sports have decided the time is ripe for another attempt. We have worked hard over the summer to ensure that this time, no champion will find himself or herself in mortal danger.  
"The heads of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving with their short-listed contenders in October, and the selection of the three champions will take place at Halloween. An impartial judge will decide which students are most worthy to compete for the Triwizard Cup, the glory of their school, and a thousand Galleons personal prize money."  
"I'm going for it!" Fred Weasley hissed down the table, his face lit with enthusiasm at the prospect of such glory and riches. He was not the only person who seemed to be visualizing himself as the Hogwarts champion. At every House table, I could see people either gazing raptly at Dumbledore, or else whispering fervently to their neighbors. But then Dumbledore spoke again, and the Hall quieted once more.  
"Eager though I know all of you will be to bring the Triwizard Cup to Hogwarts," he said, "The heads of the participating schools, along with the Ministry of Magic, have agreed to impose an age restriction on contenders this year. Only students who are of age - that is to say, seventeen years or older - will be allowed to put forward their names for consideration. This" - Dumbledore raised his voice slightly, for several people had made noises of outrage at these words, and the Weasley twins were suddenly looking furious - "is a measure we feel is necessary, given that the tournament tasks will still be difficult and dangerous, whatever precautions we take, and it is highly unlikely that students below sixth and seventh year will be able to cope with them. I will personally be ensuring that no underage student hoodwinks our impartial judge into making them Hog-warts champion." His light blue eyes twinkled as they flickered over Fred's and George's mutinous faces. "I therefore beg you not to waste your time submitting yourself if you are under seventeen.  
The delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in October and remaining with us for the greater part of this year. I know that you will all extend every courtesy to our foreign guests while they are with us, and will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected. And now, it is late, and I know how important it is to you all to be alert and rested as you enter your lessons tomorrow morning. Bedtime! Chop chop!"

Dumbledore sat down again and turned to talk to Mad-Eye Moody. There was a great scraping and banging as all the students got to their feet and swarmed toward the double doors into the entrance hall.  
"They can't do that!" said George Weasley, who had not joined the crowd moving toward the door, but was standing up and glaring at Dumbledore. "We're seventeen in April, why can't we have a shot?"  
"They're not stopping me entering," said Fred stubbornly, also scowling at the top table.  
"The champions'll get to do all sorts of stuff you'd never be allowed to do normally. And a thousand Galleons prize money!"  
Yeah," said Ron, a faraway look on his face. "Yeah, a thousand Galleons. . ."  
"Come on," said Hermione, "we'll be the only ones left here if you don't move."  
Myself, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George set off for the entrance hall, Fred and George debating the ways in which Dumbledore might stop those who were under seventeen from entering the tournament.  
"Who's this impartial judge who's going to decide who the champions are?" said Harry.  
"Dunno," said Fred, "but it's them we'll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Aging Potion might do it, George.. ."  
"Dumbledore knows you're not of age, though," said Ron.  
"Yeah, but he's not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?" said Fred shrewdly. "Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he'll choose the best from each school and never mind how old they are. Dumbledore's trying to stop us giving our names."  
"People have died, though!" said Hermione in a worried voice as they walked through a door concealed behind a tapestry and started up another, narrower staircase.  
"Yeah," said Fred airily, "but that was years ago, wasn't it? Anyway, where's the fun without a bit of risk? Hey, Ron, what if we find out how to get 'round Dumbledore? Fancy entering?"  
"What d'you reckon?" Ron asked Harry. "Be cool to enter, wouldn't it? But I s'pose they might want someone older... Dunno if we've learned enough.. .  
"I definitely haven't," came Neville's gloomy voice from behind Fred and George. "I expect my gran'd want me to try, though. She's always going on about how I should be upholding the family honour. I'll just have to, oops. " Neville's foot had sunk right through a step halfway up the staircase. There were many of these trick stairs at Hogwarts; it was second nature to most of the older students to jump this particular step, but Neville's memory was notoriously poor. Harry and Ron seized him under the armpits and pulled him out, while a suit of armour at the top of the stairs creaked and clanked, laughing and wheezing.  
"Shut it, you," said Ron, banging down its visor as they passed. They made their way up to the entrance to Gryffindor Tower, which was concealed behind a large portrait of a fat lady in a pink silk dress.  
"Password?" she said as we approached.  
"Balderdash," said George, "a prefect downstairs told me."  
The portrait swung forward to show a hole in the wall through which they all climbed.

A crackling fire warmed the circular common room, which was full of squishy armchairs and tables. Hermione cast the merrily dancing flames a dark look, and I distinctly heard her mutter "Slave labor" before bidding them good night and disappearing through the doorway to the girls' dormitory.  
Harry, Ron, and Neville climbed up the last, spiral staircase until they reached their own dormitory, which was situated at the top of the tower. Five four-poster beds with deep crimson hangings stood against the walls, each with its owner's trunk at the foot.  
Dean and Seamus were already getting into bed; Seamus had pinned his Ireland rosette to his headboard, and Dean had tacked up a poster of Viktor Krum over his bedside table. His old poster of the West Ham football team was pinned right next to it.  
"Mental," Ron sighed, shaking his head at the completely stationary soccer players.

Before Harry had gotten into bed, I decided I wanted to talk to him. I ran up to the boys dorm, Ron asked "What are you doing here? We could've been changing!"  
"Well, it was a good job you was not then." I laughed. "Harry, can I speak to you?"  
He nodded and followed me down to the common room.  
"Yeah?" He replied.  
"How was your summer?" I questioned.  
"T'was fine. Yours?" He answered.  
"It was alright. I am so sorry I did not send your birthday present but I have it here in my robes."  
I pulled out the red box with cold ribbons around it. "My Mother helped me wrap it." I said with a blush.  
He smiled and unwrapped the box and lifted the lid. He had revealed a gold chain with a lion charm connect. I began "I know it is a bit girly, if you do not like it, I can always change it I do not-"  
He cut me off "Lucia, stop! I love it."  
I smiled, "Here, would you like a hand putting it on?"  
I smiled and stood on my tiptoes to clip it together. With that I hissed in pain, the scabs on the back of my heels had not healed yet. Harry turned to face me "Lucia, are you alright?"  
I nodded and replied "I am fine, honest."  
He squinted then looked at my feet, he saw the blood around my ankles. He asked "Lucia, what is that?"  
I held my head down in shame "It is nothing, just do not ask questions. Please I will tell you another time."  
He nodded and gave me a hug. "Good night Harry." I said.  
"Good night Lucia." He replied.  
I headed back to my room and got changed into my pyjamas to see how bad the bleeding was. It was starting to stop and I crawled into bed sleepily think how close that was. The boy I loved almost saw my weakness.


End file.
